Never Meant to Be
by ia3
Summary: Years have passed since the capital was turned back. Four great Samurai died then, and now another of their number is dead. Katsushiro..what has he done? Katsushiro x Kirara. Rated T now, just to be safe in terms of violence.
1. Chapter 1: Death of a Samurai

_Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai 7 or any characters contained therein._

_A/N: I've been watching the anime, and seething with frustration 'coz Kirara and Katsushiro are so perfect for one another, but there she goes and has a crush on an older, more powerful old man. Although Kanbei is cool and all, I really DON'T see him with Kirara, and the whole love triangle thing is so sad, so i've decided to write a fanfic about it. It was originally meant to be a very long oneshot, but along the way, I found that the end of this part just called out for a chapter change(you'll see when you get to the end :p)_

_With that being said, thank you for being here, and..enjoy!_

**Never Meant to Be**

Completing a downward slash, he sheathed his _katana_. He'd been a monster on the battlefield today, killing countless number of mechanical and human samurai alike. Blood and oil bathed his _katana_ as he wielded it in all its glory. His movements were a blur to his enemies, his _katana_ only a glint in the moonlight before it impacted, bringing with it instant death. For all that he hated killing, he understood now, it was necessary in the life of a samurai. _Death_ was necessary in the life of a samurai, and so he'd unleashed his killing intent to its full potential, inducing a bloodlust in himself like no other. It was said that he was a different man on and off the battlefield, kind and compassionate, always willing to help, but his enemies never got a chance to see that side of him, they only knew and feared the monster that they called "The Demon of Kanna", after the village he'd helped save, all those years ago.

After any battle had always been the hardest time for him. He'd had to struggle with himself for control of his own body, since once there was no one left to kill, his bloodlust did not leave him-it only became stronger. In fact, even in the heat of battle, his killing intent was never as strong as after it was done, when he was the last one standing, and it was usually only by sheer force of will that he would master himself enough to stumble back to the village he'd promised to protect, fatigued and dazed, to look for a meal and a place to stay the night. Always, he would warn the villagers never to enter the battlefield, before, during and even after the battles. He would give them the excuse he had manufactured over the years-that his killing techniques were not perfect, and to avoid getting hurt from any enemy samurai he had not finished off completely, he wanted them to stay away. He had become so proficient in saying it that the lies practically rolled off his tongue nowadays and he'd long since forgotten the fear that he would kill somebody by accident, since the villagers usually responded with _"Yes, samurai-sama,"_ bowing and scraping before him, never knowing how dangerous he was, never knowing that all he wanted was to lose himself in more killing, and their safety only had a small part in his subconscious whenever he stood on the battlefield and the bloodlust overwhelmed him.

That night, he'd killed more than he'd ever killed before at one go. The bandits had heard that the village was being protected by a samurai, and sent out a large attacking force to deal with him. They had not known it would be him protecting the village, or they would not have come. They knew by now, from his reputation as one of the original seven who had defeated a fleet of Nobuseri at Kanna, and among the three of the original seven who had survived the attack by the capital, and the student of Shimada Kanbei, captain of the human force which had lost the war against the machines, so many years ago, that he was a force to be reckoned with, and any village under his protection, they would not enter. But this time, he'd made sure that his identity was hidden, as deep within him, he harboured a secret desire, so strong that it scared him sometimes. A secret desire to kill, that had been born the moment he killed for the first time, and only grew when he felt the hurt from Kirara's rejection. Killing was his escape from the painful thoughts of Kirara and Kanna that flooded his mind unceasingly. It was only when he sunk his _katana_ into enemy flesh or metal that he could lose himself, hacking and slashing methodically, with no feelings, with no thoughts but to kill. At times like those, even his survival was secondary to the success of killing someone, or some_thing._

Bodies lay at his feet, blood seeped into his slippers as he wandered aimlessly among the dead, looking for something else to kill.

"_Why?! How come you're all DEAD?! FIGHT ME!!!"_ he screamed to the sky, killing intent pouring out from him even as tears flowed freely down his cheeks. He struggled again to master himself, and had almost grasped it when suddenly, he felt a presence behind him and his other self took over.

Pulling his _katana_ out of its scabbard, he slashed twice as he turned, once at neck level, and another time diagonally downwards, not unlike the strike he had seen Kanbei-sensei use against Kikuchiyo in Kouga a long time ago, intended to decapitate and kill. However, as he completed both strokes, he didn't feel the usual satisfaction of a kill, he did not feel that sensation of flesh and bone, parting before his _katana_, of blood trickling down his blade. Instead, he had heard the harsh ringing of metal on metal, felt the resistance of that metal break down before the great _katana_ he had been given by his _sensei, _and most importantly, he still sensed the presence of the samurai. As he crouched, with his _katana_ pointing to his enemy by his side, he knew he had only grazed his opponent. Without missing a beat, he launched himself towards the opponent, thrusting the blade forward towards the heart.

* * *

Kanbei had felt the monstrous killing intent from the samurai supposed to protect their village from his hut, far away from the main body of the village itself. After the war in Kanna, he had bequeathed his _katana_ to his self proclaimed pupil, Katsushiro, and retired in another village, not far from, yet not too close to Kanna, after traveling the world for a few years with Shichiroji and Yukino as the present she claimed 'Momotaro' owed her. He could not return to Kanna, not after what he had found out there. Kirara was far from the ideal woman of his dreams, but he viewed her in high regard, respecting her bravery and spirit, and he knew, if he stayed in Kanna, he would have had to be honest with her and tell her that he had no feelings for her whatsoever, but somehow, he couldn't do it. Shimada Kanbei had always been a man of honour, a man of virtue and a kind man. He could not bring himself to destroy that girl's spirit by rejecting her love. He'd seen how Katsushiro had reacted to her rejection, and he pitied his young pupil, for although he was a novice in the game of love, he knew that she would probably react the same way, drowning herself in sorrow and dejection, so this was the best he could do, while hoping that she would move on and forget about him, maybe fall for his pupil in the process, if he ever did return to Kanna.

The village had accepted him as a hermit, accepted him despite his eccentricities and respected his reclusive nature, giving him the peace and privacy that he had sought after, in order to contemplate his failures in the war, and his life as a samurai. After Kanna, he had to admit, the farmer's life held many attractions to him, its routine nature he found calming, and the satisfaction from watching the rice grow, harvesting it, then eating that same rice he'd grown with his hands was something he had never obtained from killing and so, sometimes, he could be found in the middle of the rice fields, helping out the farmers and doing his fair share, which earned him food and respect from the villagers.

One day, he'd heard that the bandits had reemerged, a combination of the Nobuseri he'd helped repel in Kanna, and the commonplace thieves and outlaws, exiled from the capital and other villages. He supposed Katsushiro would be out there somewhere, fighting the battle he had sworn to fight, eradicating the bandits, and somewhere deep inside, he felt proud of his student. Then, he'd heard of the bandits coming to the village. He offered to try to stand up to them, but the villagers wouldn't hear of it. They argued that although he had been a skilled samurai once, his body had deteriorated and he couldn't possibly be enough to turn back the Nobuseri. They told him to take it easy, and not to throw away the life of peace he had gained, and let them hire samurai, like they had heard other villages had been doing. Sure, they were polite enough, and vague enough in their suggestions not to insult his honour, but he knew that they would not believe in him no matter what he said, so he told them to do whatever they wanted, but secretly, he'd procured a _katana_ and silently resolved to help the samurai who decided to help the village.

When the samurai arrived, he had withdrawn himself to his hut far from the village to avoid his presence being recognized by the samurai, obtaining news only from a few of the villagers who passed by his house on the way to the rice fields. He was surprised that there had been only one samurai hired, but not too surprised, as the village was not really rich enough to hire many, and since the deaths of Gorobei, Heihachi, Kyuuzo and Kikuchiyo had become public knowledge, the number of freelance samurai who would help a small village for meager sums had decreased dramatically.

He decided to get to the battlefield an hour late, to give the samurai in question some time to kill some enemies, and so that, when he arrived, the samurai would hopefully be tired enough to accept any help he could get, therefore not questioning his presence on the battlefield. However, he had heard that this particular samurai had insisted that nobody was to go near the action before he said so, claiming it to be for the safety of the villagers. This however, Kanbei brushed off. He knew that he could take care of himself with anything short of the likes of Gorobei, Kyuuzo, Shichiroji and maybe his old pupil Katsushiro, all of whom were either dead or unlikely to be there.

Then, he'd arrived on the scene and felt that monstrous killing intent. It chilled him to the bones, and in all his life, Kanbei had only ever encountered a few people who harboured such malicious, ravaging and unbridled killing intent. Even Kyuuzo's had not been as strong in the short time that he had known him, and his own killing intent paled in comparison to the one emitted by the person on the battlefield. By now, he was sure that whatever samurai employed by the villagers would probably have been killed, swallowed up by this massive killing intent. However, something tingled in Kanbei's mind. It was something to do with this person's killing intent. It seemed almost..familiar, and yet..different from anything he'd ever experienced. He just couldn't put his finger on it, and so he decided to move towards the source of this killing intent for a closer look.

He hid his killing intent, and guarded his footfalls so they were not too heavy, utilising all the stealth he had gathered from his samurai years. He got to within a few feet of the samurai and watched silently as he shouted at the sky. Suddenly, without warning, a _katana_ slashed at his neck and was headed diagonally down his body as the samurai spun around, apparently having sensed his presence. Luckily, his reflexes weren't dulled too much by the years of retirement on the farms as he had kept up his swordsmanship and most of his agility, training everyday after he got back from working on the fields. He raised his _katana_ desperately to block off or deflect the attack, but to no avail. His blade was sliced in three, each stroke of the other samurai's blade so crisp and sharp it sliced his blade cleanly into three pieces, much like the wood that Heihachi used to cut. Even so, Kanbei used the breaking of his _katana_ as an obstacle, delaying the samurai and he managed to escape with only a shallow cut on his neck, and a little less fabric on his clothes. Before he could regain his composure and raise his guard again however, the samurai had already launched himself towards him, his _katana_ aimed at Kanbei's heart. In all his time as a fighter, he had never witnessed such speed and skill as possessed by this nameless samurai. He had continued on his missed stroke, crouched, and launched himself towards Kanbei, with no wasted movements in his technique.

Somewhere, in the recesses of his mind, something clicked. Kanbei recognised the samurai. That killing intent, laced with frantic desperation, he had encountered a long time ago, so long ago it seemed like they had met in another lifetime, only this time, the hesitancy in the aura was gone, the reluctance to take life when needed - it was not there any longer. Somehow, Kanbei watched the samurai move in slow motion as he recognised the thrusting style of Gorobei, embodied in the _katana_ he had given to his student. He recognised those green eyes, framed by dark green hair, that snarl on his face, and the sound of the battle cry he had never been able to silence in the most dire of situations, only now his voice was gruff, that of a grown man, no..a grown samurai.

"Katsushiro!!" he yelled, knowing it was his only hope. His student had become so strong that he could not dodge or parry his attack, not with this body, degenerated from years of wear and tear caused by the physical overexertions he had pushed his body to in so many battles over the years. Had he been fitter and less shaken, the fight might have been longer. Yet, even at his best, Kanbei was unsure if he could have measured up against such speed and skill.

Katsushiro, the Katsushiro off the battlefield, suddenly regained control, but it was too late. He tried so hard, to stop his body from moving, to move the _katana_ from his intended path of Kanbei's heart, but it was too late. He could only watch in horror, as he recognised his _sensei's_ voice, calling his name, as his momentum propelled him forward and his _katana_, no..Kanbei's _katana_, pierced his body and plunged into Kanbei's heart, making blood splutter all over Katsushiro's face.

Kanbei coughed up blood onto the younger man's head. Breathily, he said, "Katsushiro..y-you..have become..s-sam-urai.."

Katsushiro, meanwhile, felt his knees give way as he let go of the _katana_. He sobbed incessantly, cursing himself, cursing the world, and feeling only grief and remorse for what he had done. "_sensei_..._sensei_...I'm so sorry..." he sobbed into the night over and over again to no one in particular, since Kanbei had long since collapsed onto his knees, with his _katana_ still planted in his heart. However, he had died with his eyes closed, and the slightest hint of a curvature on his lips which had the makings of a proud smile on his face, as though he was proud of Katsushiro, his first and last pupil, becoming the samurai that he had had the potential to be.

He sat there for hours with that blank look in his eyes, staring out at the black of the night. Huddled within himself like he had never done before, Katsushiro now only looked like a ghost of the samurai he had been, less than a day ago. His face held a haunted look as he repeated to himself, "I'm sorry..I didn't mean to..I'm sorry.." He couldn't close his eyes, couldn't fall asleep beside the body of Kanbei, his _sensei_ whom he had just run through with the _katana_ he'd been given. Every so often, images of him stabbing his _sensei_ came unbidden to his mind and he would begin afresh, muttering with a renewed fervor of a man possessed. Then, his memories of Kyuuzo's death flashed through his mind.

"Sensei!"_ Katsushiro scrabbled on the floor frantically, his hand searching for his katana, or any weapon at all, for he had seen a soldier take aim at Kanbei, his finger on the trigger and poised to shoot. Suddenly, his hand felt something, no..it wasn't a katana, what was it? A gun! No, but samurai don't use guns. Katsushiro was desperate anyway. Trembling, he lifted the gun to his eye level and took aim. He still wasn't sure if he should do this, but one look at Kanbei about to be shot and he knew what he had to do. Instinctively closing his eyes, he squeezed the trigger with his fingers, pumping the enemy with bullets. Somehow, although he knew one bullet would have been enough, he couldn't bring himself to stop. That soldier had tried to kill Kanbei sensei, and Katsushiro had to make sure he was dead. He pinched the trigger, firing until the gun had run out of bullets, and even then, he'd not had enough, willing more bullets to erupt from the barrel of the gun and bury themselves into the enemy's body._

_He opened his eyes. The soldier collapsed slowly to the ground, and for one second, Katsushiro felt a mixture of pride and relief. He'd just saved his sensei's life. But the sigh of relief that he had been about to let go died in his throat when he saw the startled look on the face of the red clad samurai, who had been behind the soldier Katsushiro had killed. His eyes travelled downwards and his heart almost stopped as he saw the holes in Kyuuzo's body and realised what he had truly achieved. _

He had killed Kyuuzo, the samurai he had admired, whom he had set as a target to surpass someday. Without thinking, he had squeezed that trigger so hard that the bullets went through the soldier, puncturing the body of the samurai behind him as well. Although he had been told that it was not so, Katsushiro could not help but remember the accusing light that Kyuuzo's eyes took, his body frozen in shock as he felt the bullets riddle him, and his eyes growing even bigger as he realised that they had come from one of his own, the youngest of the seven samurai, Katsushiro.

He howled into the night, venting all his regret as his body slumped towards the ground in exhaustion. He'd done it again, he'd killed two of the seven now. First Kyuuzo, he had killed to save Kanbei, and now Kanbei, he had killed in his bloodlust. Now more than ever, Katsushiro felt the aching guilt in his heart over the deaths of the rest of his brothers in arms, Heihachi, Gorobei, Kyuuzo, Kikuchiyo, and Kanbei, as though they had all been his fault. His conscience tore at him, snatching away at what was left of his spirit like vultures feasting on a carcass. The sun rose again, and the night turned to morning and still, Katsushiro sat there, unmoving, with Kanbei in front of him, impaled upon his own _katana_.

With his own two hands, he had killed two of his companions, and because of his helplessness, the rest of them had died. He raised his palms and stared at them, wondering how he would ever be rid of the blood that stained them, thick and red, spilling over his palms, onto his wrists, and even drenched his arms and clothes, the blood of Kyuuzo and Kanbei now intermingled with the blood of the others he had killed. He had never gotten over killing Kyuuzo, not really, and now, here he was, with the man who had supported him after Kyuuzo's death, dead by his hands. He had never felt so alone in his life, so devoid of meaning, so devoid of purpose, had Katsushiro.

"_It's a matter of who dies first..that's all there is to it."_

The voice of his _sensei_ rang clear in his mind. He turned to face the man whose voice he had just remembered, hoping to see signs of life in him, that he had, by some unknown power, miraculously been resurrected. But his hopes were in vain. Yet he knew that his _sensei_ would have told him the same thing he had told him when he had killed Kyuuzo by accident.

"_You must live Katsushiro! At least for a while longer.."_

Yes, he had to live. After all, _sensei_'s body had to be carried back to Kanna and buried with the other five of the original seven. He had no such hopes for himself. Disgraced and desolated, he knew he was the only one among them who had never deserved to be among the seven in the first place, and in death, he knew that he had no right to be buried there, among heroes, not when he had killed 2 of them, his own companions.

* * *

The villagers were still cautious at entering the battlefield as the samurai had told them to give him 3 days alone to destroy the bandits and as of yet, there had been no bandit attacks on the village so they assumed that the samurai had thus far been successful. On the third day, one brave villager dared to venture out onto the plains which had been their rice fields, hoping to see the samurai in action. However, what he found was not the samurai, but the _katana_ he had seen that reclusive hermit fellow, Yoshichika, brandishing in the evenings when everyone was relaxing, but broken into many pieces, and remains of the bandits, Nobuseri and humans alike. The samurai himself though, he was nowhere to be seen.

With Kanbei propped on his back, as though riding piggyback, Katsushiro trudged through the undergrowth, heading only in the general direction of Kanna. As he could not bear the shame of walking through towns or villages with his dead _sensei_ on his back, Katsushiro could only guess how far they had come. Though he had removed the _katana_ and cleaned it, methodically, like he had been taught to, the first time he'd killed, and cleaned out Kanbei's wound the best he could, treating it as respectably as possible, he knew he could not bear the disgrace of hoisting the man he had called _sensei_, then killed in his bloodlust, through every village for all to see. Nor could he leave the body anywhere for fear of crows and ravens who would tear at his skin.

However, doing that also meant that he had had to avoid most villages, and take the longer way around them to avoid being sighted. Being stubborn as he was, Katsushiro had decided he would not stop until he reached Kanna village, as the first form of repentance for the evil deed, walking non stop for days and nights on end. After 3 straight days of trudging through jungles, wastelands and undergrowth, Katsushiro began to tire, his samurai's body unused to the strain of bearing two bodies instead of one, and even moving at the snail's pace that they were, he made poor time, hardly making more than 5 kilometres a day.

He forced himself on however, thinking of Kanna village, and the way he last remembered it, with celebrations being held, the rice being harvested, and everyone safe and happy. For a while, he found solace in his thoughts, and, spurred by them, his legs moved faster, his strides lengthening, and he felt some of his energy return to him as he was rejuvenated by his purpose of carrying them both closer to their destination, and Kanbei's final resting place.

Kanbei. He had almost forgotten about his _sensei_ amongst all his daydreams. As he thought of the villagers' possible reactions when they found out he had killed their saviour, their Kanbei-sama, his paced slowed as the weight of reality shattered his naive illusions and came crashing down on him. Suddenly, the weight on his shoulders increased as the burden he carried now became more than just Kanbei, but also the shame and the disgrace he had brought upon himself in that one moment of madness, and once again he started trudging, feet plodding the ground as he forced them one ahead of the other.

He thought of Rikichi and Sanae, maybe they might understand, having seen him in battle. Maybe, just maybe they'd accept him the way he was and somehow absolve his sins. He thought of the Elder. The old man was very knowledgeable, and his experience might allow him to see the truth of the situation, and maybe, by the slimmest of chances, he might turn the villagers. Komachi too! She believed in him from the very start, although not as much as she did with Kikuchiyo, but still..he hoped against hope that somehow, maybe the villagers of Kanna might not hate him and revile him like the monster he knew he was.

Over the years, he'd trained himself as much in mind as in body, but just as he could not overcome his bloodlust, this was another one of his weaknesses. The village of Kanna always held bittersweet memories for the young samurai, and everytime he thought of it, he would crack, and the worst of those memories would come flooding back to him, bombarding him with the pain of rejection, over and over again. This time, he tried to resist the urge, tried to fight his thoughts as he knew he couldn't afford to think of it. He forced himself to focus elsewhere, looking at his feet, even turning to stare at Kanbei, but to no avail. Slowly but surely, his thoughts turned to the one reason he had never been back to Kanna all these years.

* * *

Oh, how he wished he'd never let her hand go. How he wished he hadn't been so weak, outclassed and overpowered by three low rate, disgraces of samurai whom, now, he could brush aside collectively with a single movement of his blade. Looking back, he wondered how he'd expected her to reciprocate the love he'd felt for her, that painful yearning that never dulled all this time. After all, he'd failed her, and her Kanbei sama hadn't. He'd saved her when Katsushiro had been helpless to protect her, and he supposed, that made all the difference. But still, he'd held on, hoping against hope that Kirara was not the type of person who gave her heart where power lay, and although he still refused to believe it, it was the only excuse he could offer himself.

It had been like in Kanna wherever he went, with all the village girls ogling him, and not subtly. They gathered like moths to a summer flame, hiding behind trees and in bushes as they watched him train, as if a samurai could not easily sense their presence. Sometimes, he tolerated them. After all, it was the way of the samurai to endure, and to be able to concentrate in any sort of situation. Oh, he had overcome his flustered feelings after the first few villages he'd helped protect from the rag tag bands made up of the remnants of the Nobuseri as well as other, human outlaws who had joined them, but occasionally, when he got close to Kanna, there would be villages which had Water Priestesses too, and in some ways, they reminded him of Kirara. It did not help when they all became part of the group of girls that dogged his every step and stalked his every move. Those times, he had had to run away from them, using every bit of stealth he possessed. It was surprising how tenacious such girls were, and even though his skills had improved, that aspect of his movements had always been a little lacking. When he'd escaped, he'd sigh and think, _"Ah, how the heavens mock me." _He could have gotten any other girl, anywhere in the world, the girls in all the villages proved that, but he had fallen for the one girl he that would never be attracted to him. _"Kirara dono..."

* * *

_

His knee sank to the ground as he lost the will to go on. Tired, hungry and thirsty, only the thought of giving his _sensei_ a proper burial had kept him going, but now, thoughts of Kirara rushed through his mind as though they were trying to split his skull. He tried his hardest to get up, to continue walking, but it was all in vain. He knew what Kirara's reaction would be when he walked into the village, with Kanbei's body on his back. He knew that for all that Rikichi, Sanae, Komachi and even the Elder could say, Kirara could change the opinions of the villagers in the blink of an eye. Yet now, it was not even the villagers' potential hate that kept him down, but Kirara's hate. He could almost feel it now, as if somehow, she knew what he had done to the man he knew she loved. Even worse, he knew the grief and sorrow it would bring her, the grief and sorrow that _he_ would bring her..had brought her, in his one moment of madness. He'd sworn to protect her, but instead, he would be the one to bring death and despair to her.

He clutched his hand to the left side of his chest, suddenly feeling an inexplicable rising pain coming from inside his body. He didn't know what it was that he felt inside. It was a mixture of sadness, pain, emptiness, and regret. Tears escaped his eyes as he knelt there with Kanbei's body on his back. He cried unreservedly, hacking and coughing up blood from the dryness of his throat. He felt beaten and battered, like a broken man. His energy sapped by his crying, and the exertion of his non stop walk without food or water, he gave in and rolled over onto the ground, thinking, _"Kirara-dono..I'm so sorry.."_ Slowly, his vision became cloudy, and all he could see was darkness.

* * *

**Author's Notes : **Hehe, didn't it call for a chapter change? I found it pretty hard to think of how to incorporate the continuation of the story into this without doing a chapter change so here I am, taking the easy way out XD. Also, I'm debating between using swordand _katana_ all the time, what do you guys think would work better? I'm also unsure about the spelling of Kanbei's name, since the subbed versions i have use Kanbei halfway, then switch to Kanbei during the second half of the series, but i'll just go with the one we've heard from ep2, which is Kanbei. I've done my best to try and italicise and bold stuff like jap words and ppl's thoughts out, so it's easier to get, but let me know if you think there should be anything improved. Alright, over and out. Lemme know what ya think! Cheers, and thank you for R&R-ing!

Ps: I spell using the British system, so I hope no one's too picky over spelling.


	2. Chapter 2: Kirara

_Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai 7 or any of the characters contained therein_

_A/N: I'm sorry for the relatively shorter chapter, but this encompasses most of Kirara's thoughts ONLY, with not much plot advancement, mostly backstories and the like. With that being said, here we go, Chapter 2!_

**Chapter 2: Kirara**

From her house close to the centre of the village, she heard the commotion, and as any ordinary villager would, she went to see its cause, since excitement hardly ever came to a village like Kanna any longer. Not since the Nobuseri were defeated here. Because of the reputation of the seven samurai who had defeated the Nobuseri, no one dared to even think of raiding their village, much less launch a frontal assault on it. Nowadays, the village looked as much a farming village as a castle, and the farmers themselves walked taller, their soldiering halves having become as much of them as their farming halves. Every single villager knew how to use the bow, as farmers taught their sons and daughters how to protect themselves, passing on the skills of marksmanship like they passed on the art of cultivating rice, ensuring that Kanna would never again be oppressed or taken unawares, by humans or Nobuseri alike.

Her eyes travelled from villager to villager as she made her way towards the source of the villagers' excitement, looking for someone she knew personally, like Shino or Rikichi, so she could find out what was actually going on. Not that anyone would not tell her if she asked, but she would rather it be them, since she had grown up with the daughter of Manzo, the two of them having shared so much together, so as to have a relatively close bond with one another, and having gone to Kouga with Rikichi all those years ago, she had found that she could trust him with her thoughts, and after all, hadn't they all been through almost the same horrifying experiences together?

Neither one of them were anywhere to be seen, so she made her way towards the general source of everyone's attention, rarely having to push her way past someone, as everyone made way for one of the village's own heroes, as herself, Rikichi and Komachi were regarded as now. She then saw why she could not find Rikichi in the crowd. He was there in the distance, across the bridge, bent almost double, carrying what looked like a deformed person on his back, with Komachi walking on his left, shouting words of encouragement, pumping her fists and generally, being Komachi, and Sanae on his right, coaxing him on as she wiped his brow with her handkerchief with every bit of grace that a court lady would possess.

"_Guess old habits die hard,"_ Kirara mused, aware that once upon a time, Rikichi had given her up to the Nobuseri to save their village. Although with her consent, she knew that the farmer had been left emotionally scarred by the guilt he had felt from being helpless to stop her. Once upon a time, Sanae had abandoned all hope of ever returning to Kanna or seeing Rikichi again, and in her time of despair, she had fallen in love with the Amanushi at the time. He had impregnated her, planting the seed of his despicable clone into her womb, then mysteriously died of seemingly natural causes, leaving Ukyou in charge. She'd been distraught then, as her secure life was once again, thrown into turmoil by the samurai showing up and rescuing her from her abductors.

Kirara shuddered at the things that Sanae had had to go through, silently muttering a prayer to the Gods that she had not been assigned such a horrible fate. She didn't know what she would have done had she been subjected to such dire situations. However, that was all in the past now. All that happened such a long time ago it seemed like it was a different lifetime. Since then, Sanae and Rikichi had worked out their problems, agreeing to put the past behind them and never look back on them. He had been full of remorse, willing to forgive anything because of the joy he had felt at his wife returning, and she had been confused and disturbed, thrown outside her comfort zone.

Eventually, she found her love for him deep inside her heart, hidden and buried so well as she pretended to love the Amanushi everyday. In truth, she had deceived herself into thinking she loved the Amanushi because the pain of being without Rikichi had been too much at the time. She had been lost, alone and more than a little hurt that although it had been her decision to sacrifice herself for the village, Rikichi had never once thought of rescuing her-or so she thought. Once the illusion had been shattered, she had withdrawn into herself, thinking about how Rikichi would react when she told him she could not be his wife because she could not love him. Slowly, however, she realised she only cared about how he would react because she cared about him, because she did not want to hurt him. Over time, she rekindled her love for him from the embers of her broken heart. For his part, he was truly the perfect husband, always providing, never asking anything of her, never pressuring her, and she remembered the man she truly loved. The man she'd agreed to spend the rest of her life with and given herself to.

* * *

"_Maybe time truly does heal all wounds..."_ thought Kirara, as she looked at Sanae, who was now supporting and fussing over a very tired Rikichi who had been relieved of his burden by the other villagers. Now, she saw that instead of carrying a deformed person like she had thought before, Rikichi had been carrying two bodies. They both wore cloaks, and as the wind rippled them, she saw that they were both presumably samurai, from the katanas that they carried. One of the figures, borne by Manzo, of all people, wore flowing white clothes, cut in the style of local villagers, yet bearing a nagging resemblance to something she had seen before. From where she stood, she could see that the first figure was a rather aged man, in his 60s or 70s she guessed, with long black hair cascading down his back. The second figure was a leaner, young man who looked like he was in his 20s. She thought he might even be almost the same age as herself. The man's hair was a dark shade of green, the back half held back in a topknot in the traditional style of samurai. He had, however, allowed his fringe to grow unkempt and free, giving him a rather more casual look. His clothes looked dusty and worn, like he had travelled many miles. 

As they drew closer, Kirara saw that the first figure had only his sheath but not his sword. She saw that his hands were adorned by guards and gloves, as were his forearms and shins, suggesting an experienced samurai, always prepared for battle. She couldn't shake the nagging feeling that that person was somehow familiar to her, but she brushed it off as mere coincidence. As the second person was being carried into the village, she pushed past a few people, her sense of familiarity increased by the sight of the figure. As the figure was carried past where she stood, she caught a closer look at his face. There was definitely something familiar there, but she just couldn't place it. She furrowed her brow, mentally thinking of all the people with green hair that she'd ever met. Unbeknownst to her, her hand had come up and was outstretched, mimicking the pose she always took when dousing for water with her crystal, that she had passed on to Komachi. It couldn't be helped, since she had been practicing it for years before meeting Kanbei and Katsushiro and having to choose between them, and it was the position in which she was most comfortable thinking and concentrating in.

* * *

Deep in thought, she felt her hand brush against something, and she realised she was touching the sheath of the man's katana. She quickly pulled back her hand and was ready to apologise in case someone had seen her do it when her motions caused the worn and tattered cloak encasing the stranger's body to flutter about slightly, and as she got a full view of the katana and its sheath, she let out a loud gasp. 

"_Do you feel the scent of the battlefield from me now?"_

The memories came rushing back to her. The last question he had asked of her before he had left and walked out of her life, and all of their lives. That question that filled her heart with regret. Regret at forcing him into the position where he had had to kill. Regret at pulling a kind man like him down such a dark path, and regret at breaking his heart.

"_You told me we would fall together... __how those words supported me..."_

He had said that night. She knew then how important she had been in his determination to become samurai. Only then, she had not understood how much pain her rejection had caused him. Now, she knew better. The day Kanbei had left the village, she had been out on the rice fields, taking part in the annual celebrations when the rice would be planted. That night, she realised that the two samurai had left. She wept her heart out, a heart forever scarred by the coldness of one Shimada Kanbei, "a shell of a man". Instinctively, she sought out Katsushiro, knowing he would listen unquestioningly and offer her whatever sympathy he could. She wandered around the village, ignoring everything and everyone in search of the young, green hair samurai for 2 hours, before remembering that he had left, long before Kanbei. Left because he couldn't stand the pain of seeing her moon over Kanbei while he pined for her with every fibre of his being.

"_I've been trying to protect you, but I've been the one being protected."_

That's right, he had always had her safety and her best interests in mind. When no one believed in her, Katsushiro did. When she'd been in danger, Katsushiro would always try his best, pushing himself to the limits for her. To ensure her safety. She remembered the promise. When he had saved her from the onrushing truck in Kouga, then told her he wouldn't let go of her hand, ever, her heart had fluttered. Although she told herself she was attracted to Kanbei at the time, with his powerful sword movements, and the grace he exhibited in controlling those strikes, as well as his kind heart, melting hers, in that instant when he had held her, her heart had warmed up to Katsushiro, and ever since then, her heart had been conflicted and divided into two minds.

In the end, she'd chosen Kanbei over Katsushiro, which led to what seemed like the most disastrous possible chain of events. Katsushiro had left, intending to fight again. That night, before he walked away from Kanna, away from Shichiroji and Kanbei, and away from her, Kanbei had bequeathed his katana to Katsushiro. The same one he had borne during the Great Samurai Wars against the mechanical samurai, so many years ago. The same one whose sheath she was gripping, causing the villager carrying him to turn around and stare at her, a bemused expression on his face.

She motioned for the villager carrying him to stop. Moving closer, she examined the hilt of the katana she had been holding, then parted his long green bangs to study his face. It had the same boyish good looks, only his years of travelling had made him more gaunt and lean, his cheeks hollowed and his skin leathery. Lifting his eyelids, she saw the same emerald green eyes she remembered from so long ago, flickering between levels of unconsciousness. Without a doubt, she now knew who he was. _"Katsushiro-sama.."

* * *

_

So lost was she in her thoughts that only when the whole village erupted in cheers did she realise that she had given voice to her thoughts. One of the men beside her had heard her acknowledge him and decided that she would know best if he was one of the legendary seven, then spread the word amongst the others. Whispers became mutters, and slowly, those gave way to gasps of recognition, and then cheering broke out among the villagers. The return of one of their saviours was an unexpected, but joyous occasion, and indeed, it brought many a smile to the farmers' faces. But even as they cheered, they worried for him, their brows furrowing after the initial celebratory whoop that each man had voiced. The same thought was on everyone's mind. _What could have happened to cause him to be found unconscious, not five miles from their village? Was there another threat closing in on the village?_ One thing was for sure. They had to nurse him back to health, if not only that they owed him that much, they also wanted to know if their village was in danger.

Kirara had always been bright, even as a peasant, her mind worked overtime, outstripping the thoughts and worries of the other villagers. She'd given those questions thought, then dismissed them, as she knew they could only be answered by either Katsushiro or his companion. His companion, that was who interested her. She'd found his garments familiar, and recognising Katsushiro had made her wonder if it could be. As her curiosity gave way to hope, she found herself running towards her Grandmother's house, her feet moving on their on volition. She had to get to where they would be taking both Katsushiro and, if she was right, Kanbei, to seek treatment from her Grandmother.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Well, there you have it! Sorry for the slight cliffhanger. Totally unintentional i tell you! Also, it might be useful to note that i've been reading Samuraiko's work (which is, totally awesome -bows- ), and i'm really intrigued with her character, Nasami, so, with her agreement, i might write a guest chapter or two on her. Again, thank you for reading, and let me know what you think by leaving a review! P's & Q's. Hope you liked it. Laters! 


	3. Chapter 3: Reunion

_Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai 7 or any characters contained therein. _

_A/N: I might have taken out Kanbei a lil early in the story, but still, it was to show just how much Katsushiro has grown, and Kanbei has aged. If you're not too sure what i mean about Kanbei's 'degenerating' body, i borrowed heavily from Samurai X: Reflections(Rurouni Kenshin). Once again, i seem to have to leave it at this chapter length, though i have a lil more written, so i hope no one minds terribly. With all that said, enjoy!_

**Chapter 3: Reunion**

"_Ungh.."_ Katsushiro groaned as he shifted his weight, trying to reduce the sudden pain that he felt, flaring up his muscles. Gods, how long had it been since he could afford to sleep like this, so peaceful and calm. He actually felt refreshed and rested, and it seemed like he'd almost forgotten what that could feel like, always sleeping lightly and on the move, always wary of assassins trying to kill him, deep sleep was a luxury he had long since given up. He felt pure bliss as feelings of surety, familiarity and peace washed over him, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions he had gone through for so long since he had killed his _sensei_.

Then it struck him. Maybe he was dead. Maybe, at long last, the Gods had deemed it fit to end his torture and send him to this afterlife. Inwardly, he thought, _"This isn't so bad after all."_ The many years of hardships and ceaseless mental and physical torment he had gone through had been worth it if this was what they deemed him worthy of. He was humbled. To think that even after all the sins he had committed, all the lives he had taken-the lives of comrades and enemies alike, he would be honoured enough to deserve a place as heavenly as this. He was content. Silently, he murmured a prayer of gratitude to whichever higher power had allowed him such contentment.

* * *

From where she sat, next to him, with a bowl of medicinal herbs in one hand and warm water in the other, she watched over him. She had been told that the man he had carried had indeed been Kanbei, but one look at the position of his wound told her it was not necessary to check for a pulse. A large area of red had spread, Kanbei's blood had diffused down the front of his robes, dying it a dark, crusty shade of reddish brown, but she had been able to almost immediately locate the wound from which it had originated. The strike had been sharp and incisive, and she knew he had died quickly, and almost painlessly as compared to other samurai. The samurai or Nobuseri who had done it was obviously very skilled, and even though she saw that Kanbei's body had degenerated a whole lot from the time she last saw him, she knew enough to know that whoever it was, had to be at least as good as Kyuuzo had been, perhaps better. The samurai who did this had run Kanbei through, directly through the heart, and she knew he had been dead for a long time now, maybe even before Katsushiro had begun carrying him around.

The green haired man in her care suddenly groaned, waking her from her reverie of the incidents a little more than a day ago. She watched him stir in his blankets, then sink back into unconsciousness, her brow creased in worry for the man who had suddenly reappeared in her village after all this time, then changed the wet medicinal towel on his forehead which was supposed to bring his temperature down and cool his raging fever. As she leaned over him, she noticed that his lips had curved slightly upwards, revealing the slightest hint of a smile. She heard him mutter something incoherent, and almost inaudible to her ears, close as she was, and before she could stop herself, she smiled. This was nothing like the time long ago when he had been injured and wracked with fever. His mutterings from a moment ago were not the ravings caused by fever, and he was not in as much pain. She knew he would not die just yet, and it relieved her. Her smile widened as his face took on a content expression, and before she knew it, her cheeks were heating and her face was flushed from just looking at him. She had missed that smile, from so long ago. It seemed like after their first few meetings, everytime he had seen her he had worn a scowl or a serious, neutral expression, as though trying to live up to the stoic nature that Kanbei had possessed. Even then, infatuated with Kanbei as she was, her heart went out to him. She knew how it felt to try so hard, yet feel that your goal was so far away, unattainable. Knew simply because all farmers knew, as they were helplessly pushed around by the Nobuseri. She had wanted to tell him it was alright, that he didn't have to be emotionless to be a samurai, but couldn't. Her heart, and her body, could not give voice to those thoughts, for if she did, Kanna would have had one less samurai defending it.

Years ago, when Kanna had directly attacked by the most powerful warship known to man at the time, the Capital, he had arrived alone, without the other samurai, claiming he had been led there by Gorobei, who had been dead at the time. But that didn't matter to them. What mattered was that he had stood, one man against hundreds, and marshalled the village's forces, which enabled them to at least take out some of the soulless Nobuseri on their own. He had repelled the laser from the Capital's main cannon with his sword, he had cut down Nobuseri who approached the village, and without him, they would never have survived the first wave of the attack for as long as they did, and Kanbei would have had nothing left to save.

Timidly, she reached out a hand to brush a stray strand of hair from his face, and for the first time since he had been found, she peered closely at the man who, many years ago, had stolen her first kiss, who had claimed to love her, the man who had started killing to protect her and her village. She saw that the years had made him hard, his cheeks were now hollowed and no longer was his body covered with baby fat or any sort of fat. He was all muscle, lean and hard and cold. Even unconscious, she could feel the coldness of his spirit, the emptiness of his soul. He had grown taller, leaner and inevitably, stronger. But that had come at a price. He had walked down the path that he had always foreseen himself walking down on, into the footsteps of Kanbei. He had become a samurai through and through, neglecting his emotions, acting on instinct, and just by looking at him, she knew, he had barricaded his heart. Strangely, she felt a pang of sadness within her, as though somehow, it were her fault. Then again, she told herself, maybe it _was_ her fault. She had rejected him in favour of an infatuation she now knew to be hopeless, crushed his hopes and dreams of finding love, after she had led him on, although unintentionally.

She looked at the sword that lay at his side. It had once belonged to Kanbei. She wondered, just how many people had he killed with that sword? And now, how many had Katsushiro killed? She wondered, involuntarily, how much his skills had improved, and whether he still hesitated before killing. Shuddering at the thought of Katsushiro truly being a heartless killing machine, she realised that, in so many ways, he had become the embodiment of a true samurai. He was truly Kanbei's successor and apprentice, in almost every way, except that he was still Katsushiro, and strangely, she began hoping that he hadn't changed that much, and that he hadn't completely turned into Kanbei.

Kanbei...Now that she knew Katsushiro was safe, her tears started flowing freely, her shoulders shaking as she tried to contain her sobbing so as not to draw attention to her hut, and in order not to wake Katsushiro. Rivulets of her tears streamed down her face as she buried it in her hands, trying to wipe off the tears that were steadily flowing down her flawless cheeks.

Drip

A droplet of her tears leaked from her hands, onto Katsushiro's eyelid. Unable to stem the flow of her tears, they were now dripping downwards onto Katsushiro's face, drenching his eyebrows and pooling up on the crevices of his face.

* * *

As he sat and meditated in the fields of pure green, watching the yellow stalks of rice bend in the wind, Katsushiro felt a drop of water wet him. It was raining. He chuckled, resigned that even in Heaven, there would be rain. As he had nowhere to shelter, he decided to sit out in the rain, embracing it for the first time in years. He had not had a chance to enjoy the sensation of being splattered by rain water which drenched his body, as though sent from Heaven to cleanse him. He closed his eyes, letting the rainwater wash away his sins.

The edges of his vision blurred as he opened them again, just in time to see a rivulet of water stream down directly into his eyes. He blinked from the slight pain of the intrusion of water in his eyes, and looked up, directly at the face of a very distraught, crying Kirara. He twitched his muscles, all sore from the strain he had put himself under, and labouriously moved his body into an upright sitting position, wincing at the pain that bodily assaulted every part of his body as he did so. "Kirara..dono.." he croaked, his voice hoarse with disuse.

Consumed with trying to stop her tears, Kirara had not noticed Katsushiro waking up, her mind simply not registering the shifting of the mat beneath her as she struggled to master herself. Not until he called out her name did she even register him looking down at her from where he sat, his content expression now gone, his face creased with a frown of worry, and his green eyes riddled with confusion. "Kirara dono..." he ventured again, his voice less shaky, though still no less hoarse.

She looked at him, entranced by the compassionate dark green eyes which had seen so much, which were now holding hers, but her tears would not yet stop flowing, guilt and regret now mingling with the grief that she felt over Kanbei's death, just by looking at Katsushiro.

He did not know where he was, and how he had ended up here, but seeing Kirara crying, he was sure he was alive. She never cried in his dreams. She was always smiling, welcoming, and loving. He had never stopped loving her, in all the years that he had been away, she was the only one that lived on in his heart, her name resounding in his head, the sound of her voice echoed in his ears, and he saw her face in most, if not all of his dreams, and always, always she had been smiling. So he knew, he was either alive, or he was in hell. Katsushiro knew, if he was alive, she must have been crying over Kanbei, and immediately, a feeling of dread and guilt crept over him. Yet, he knew he could not tell her now, not now, as it would devastate her, losing a friend and the man she loved all at once.

Against his will, his conscience hijacked his body. It moved his arm up to her shoulder, gripping it firmly as he turned her towards him, her face directly in front of his. It used his voice, and said, "Kirara dono..Kanbei..I-I.." Just in time, he had regained control of his body, delaying that speech for just a moment longer.

* * *

Again, she heard him whisper her name, and suddenly felt his hand on her shoulder. By now, her sobbing had ceased, yet the tears still flowed, silently down the sides of her face and onto the mat below, in the space between them both. She heard him, again. He called out to her, then said Kanbei's name. Suddenly, she felt a burning anger grow inside of her, boiling white and hot. She wanted to hurt him, push him away and chase him out. After all, he had brought bad news to Kanna once again. He'd not only been unable to save Kanbei, but also had not the common sense to leave her alone in her grief. Instead, she closed the distance between them and threw her body onto his, holding him with all that she had, all that she _was. _Her anger dissipated as in that moment, she realised how wrong she had been. He _knew_ how she felt. They shared the pain of losing a precious one, the father figure they had both seen in Kanbei. It was in that moment that she realised her true feelings for Kanbei. It had been love. Yet, it was not the love she thought she had felt, nor was it the infatuation she thought it might have been, until she kept wondering about his wellbeing well after he had left Kanna. She loved him, like a daughter would love a father. She loved him for caring, for saving her, and for saving her village. As the realisation hit her, she collapsed into Katsushiro's body, feeling his arms wrap themselves around her in a warm, protective embrace.

It was not the reunion either of them would have expected, but it was a sort of reunion nonetheless, and as they sat there, in each other's arms, each felt tremulous at being reunited, yet, to both of them, though it remained unspoken, it felt..so right. It felt as though the culmination of all the emotions they had both experienced throughout the years had converged into this one single embrace. He felt at peace with himself, lost in the moment and forgetting all else as he held her with all his heart, wanting the moment never to end. She felt the same, and for the first time in her life, she was well and truly content. Then, as she cried into his shoulder and melted into his embrace which was both loving, yet respectful, she heard him whisper, "I'm sorry..Kirara dono.", and the moment was gone.

She said nothing, only gripped him harder, pulling herself against him to regain the lost warmth, burying herself deeper into the crook of his shoulder. Resignedly, he held her close to him, a mixture of love and guilt reflected in his eyes.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I'm not too confident that i got the actual scene of him waking up, and the embrace well enough. I dunno, it just didn't really seem to flow that well. I might come back and rewrite it i guess. In the mean time, tell me what you think! Anything that you feel needs to be corrected or improved, please let me know. Looking forward to it. Thank you for your time. 


	4. Chapter 4:Growth

_A/N: Sorry for the super late update! I've been having exams and such, and even this has been written in the midst of my mid exam break. I'd like to thank everyone who's read this for continually reading it, and all the anonymous reviewers that have given me reviews, thank you. In response to Bakabaka, hell yeah, there's a lot more where that came from, and hopefully it'll be as good or better than what i've already written._

_This chapter's mostly on Komachi. Second only to Katsushiro (Kirara's been relegated to third once i realised how addicted i became to Komachi's character), she's one of my favourite characters in the story. Her seiyuu is awesome! She's cute, spunky and absolutely completely honest and sincere whenever she says something. Can we all say..Kawaii!!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Samurai 7 or any characters contained therein. As an additional note, Nasami is the property of Samuraiko from the story The Sword of the Soul. If you've seen S7 the anime, i strongly recommend that you read her story. 'Tis an awesome take on events, as well as fits in many of the gaps the anime may have left. With that out of the way, read on and i hope you enjoy!_

_A/N 2: Sorry, had to repost. Too many grammatical errors and my internet stuffed up, not allowing me to fix them on size=1 width=100% noshade>_

**Chapter 4: Growth**

The next time he awoke, his muscles no longer ached with the cramps he had felt from that last time. Testing his body, he slowly eased himself upright, wondering how much of what he remembered had been only a dream or some hallucination his tortured mind could think up in an elaborate scheme against himself to atone for his guilt. Satisfied that he seemed to be as fit as he could be, he stretched, looking around for two things-Kirara, and the sword. He didn't know if he should call it his now that he had killed Kanbei with it, or see it as Kanbei's since by killing his sensei, he had forfeited his right to honour, and thus the sword and the life of a samurai.

"Ooh, Katsunoji! You're awake!" The cheerful sound of a young girl's voice broke his depressing train of thoughts and he turned to see a girl very much like a younger version of Kirara, but with shoulder length hair grinning widely at him who rushed to clumsily ladle a bowl of something that smelled like herbal medicine and hold it out to him with both arms outstretched.

"K-Komachi..?" he ventured, thinking of the only person but Kikuchiyo who would call him by that name. If it were possible, the grin on the girl's face only grew wider as she nodded as an affirmative. Truly, the energy that the girl possessed was infectious, and before he could stop himself, Katsushiro himself had broken into a slight smile, the corners of his mouth upturned as he held the bowl of now apparently foul smelling medicinal herbs in his hands. He remembered a bowl like that from his memory of the first time he had woken up. Til now, he still could not decide if that had been real, or it was yet another of his dreams. Caught in the moment of Komachi's enthusiasm and abundant cheeriness, he had forgotten his initial purpose of scanning the room, but now that it was back, his face took on a dark expression again as he pondered his problem.

Reading his mind, she leaned closer to him to stare into his eyes, observing his face with her clear, innocent eyes.

"You know, you really haven't changed a bit Katsunoji! You're still thinking of ne-sama aren't you?"

Katsushiro said nothing, but averted his gaze from hers as a measure of his denial and to hide his embarrassment that his mask, the one he had donned for so many years had now been so easily penetrated by this teenage girl with nothing but spunk and no tact whatsoever.

"Shh shh shh..I was right! She was here last night you know, and every day since you were brought in here. I'm just covering for now, since last night she came back and wouldn't say anything but.."

She leaned in towards him with one hand cupping her mouth and a mischevious glint in her eyes and whispered into his ear, "I think she likes you," then laughed herself silly when she saw that Katsushiro's face had begun heating up, blood rising to his ears as he quickly took on the appearance of something resembling a tomato.

For the moment, Katsushiro felt like he was 16 again, travelling with Kanbei sensei and Kikuchiyo. Then, Komachi had teased him to no end about his attraction to her elder sister. Despite his misgivings and despite all that he had taught himself not to do, he rose to the bait like he was 16 once more and yelled irritably, "She doesn't like me!"

Childish as ever, even in her teens, Komachi was enjoying the sight of a very uncomfortable Katsushiro. Giggling uncontrollably, she ran around the little hut with her arms spread out to her sides shouting, "Katsushiro likes Ne-sama!"(1)

Once again feeling his cheeks heat up, Katsushiro tried to catch her from where he sat with one hand, and his bowl of medicine in the other, yelling at her,

"Come on, cut it out! I already told you, she doesn't like me and I've got no time to fall in love either,"

to no effect, when this only increased the mirth in her voice as she continued repeating the phrase and running aimlessly around the room to escape his flailing arm.

Being unable to catch her, and with his words having no effect, Katsushiro then turned to the medicine in his hands and chugged it down slowly, pointedly ignoring Komachi and her teasing. However, as he drank, his thoughts wandered, straying from the annoying sing-song voice that Komachi had adopted. He'd missed them all so much. Kanna, Komachi and especially Kirara. The years he had spent purposely avoiding Kanna had dulled his senses and made him blind to so many things, particularly those involving himself. He'd forgotten the last time he had allowed himself the luxury of a light hearted moment, or the last time a smile, true and genuine had graced his lips like they had earlier and were straining to do even now. Komachi, her spunk and smiles had gotten to him, making him do something he had failed to do in over 10 years-truly feel happy. It was true that he loved Kirara as much as a man could love a woman, yet he loved Komachi as well, though not quite in the same sense. He thought of her as the sibling he had never had. The kid sister he would have spoiled silly with treats, tricks and chase around all day just to pinch her cheeks had he had one, and she had just proven to him why. She made him smile in any situation, and lifted his spirits just by being herself. While Kirara brought him back to the most memorable and emotional moments of their adventures so long ago, only Komachi could truly transport him back to the time that he had been hassled by Kikuchiyo and then even chuckled at by Kanbei while travelling to Kanna. With her, he could pretend everything was alright and even hope that just maybe, he had a chance with Kirara again.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, he stopped himself before it could progress any further. He had learned from experience, expectation was the first step towards disappointment, especially when you knew that what you wanted was something beyond your reach, something so impossible that it could only happen in your dreams, and sometimes, not even then. She did not love him, she could not love him, and after what he had done, there was no chance that any of that would ever change.

Just as quickly as his mood had been lifted, a veil of darkness seemed to have settled upon him again at the depressing thoughts that filled his head. He once again wondered how he could break the news to the villagers, how he would deal with their accusing stares, and how Kirara would react to it. Glumly, he held out the bowl to Komachi in one hand as he quietly said, "Stop it, she won't ever love me."

Upon hearing this, she froze midstep and midsentence, almost tumbling onto the ground in an awkward position. She sensed the sombre nature of his mood and the seriousness of his words. Silently, she took his bowl and deposited it in a corner where it would be cleaned later. Her eyes glistened with a tinge of sadness at the resigned tone of his voice, his unspoken pain for his unrequited love obvious from the expression on his face. All these feelings she saw within him only made her think about the mechanical samurai who had once been her constant companion, whom she had fallen for even though she had been so very young. It was hard, knowing that you never would have a chance at love simply because the one you loved was dead, taken by the very cause they had brought him there to fight for.

Seeing Katsushiro in so much pain, and her sister suffer so much over the years because he had left, and because Kanbei had broken her heart, she was determined that as long as she had any say in it, neither of them would hurt any longer. From a young age, she had always been very perceptive of things around her, particularly the feelings of the people she knew. Perhaps it was because of this that she adopted a cheerful, friendly and positive attitude-so that no one would have to worry about her, so that everyone else would be happy too. As she trained to be a water maiden, this perceptiveness inborn in her had been honed, and nowadays, she could usually tell what a person was thinking just by looking at them. Squatting down so her head was at Katsushiro's level, she looked him in the eyes and said to him, simply,

"Don't give up Katsunoji. Don't ever give up," before standing again and as if casting a magic spell, she said, in an almost commanding tone, "Now, sleep!"

As he felt the medicine take hold of him and his consciousness slip out of his grasp, Katsushiro suddenly remembered the other thing that he had been looking for. Grabbing the tips of her fingers before she walked out of the hut, he rasped, "Katana.." hoping she had heard him, before succumbing to the drug, and allowing himself to sleep once more.

She'd heard him, though barely, and spared a small secret smile to herself. _Indeed Katsunoji had become a true samurai._ She picked up his sword which stood beside Kirara's bookcase and placed it by his side before walking out of the hut to meet Okara.

* * *

Kirara sat at the side of the river which led to the waterfall. She had to think, and because of her training as a water maiden, she did her best thinking in the presence of water. Last night, the embrace with Katsushiro had been unexpected to say the least. She definitely did not expect to have broken down in front of him at the mere thought of Kanbei, and the epiphany that she had had while in his arms was heavy on her mind as well. She definitely did not expect him to wake up because of her tears, for him to put his arms around her and hold her like he did, lending her his comfort and warmth, assuring her he knew how she felt because he felt it too, all without saying words. And she had definitely not expected it to feel so right.

Surprisingly, it was not Kanbei's death that she agonised about now. She had acquired more than the closure she had desired in the arms of Katsushiro the night before, and she was even able to help her grandmother clean Kanbei's body neutrally and professionally. Unlike visions of herself that she had had, in which she had broken down upon seeing Kanbei's dead body, her trembling hands clutching Kanbei's body, unwilling to believe that he was dead. Those fears had made her hesitant to agree when she had been asked to help her grandmother with the task. However, contrary to her expectations, she had been calm, silent and respectful when she'd cleaned him up and prepared him for the burial, which would commence as soon as Katsushiro was well enough to attend the funeral.

It was the state of her current relationship with Katsushiro that had her concerned. The events of the night before replayed itself over and over again in her mind, until she had memorised every detail, every feeling, every scent, every sight, and every curvature of his body that had brushed hers and given her comfort. But the puzzling thing was, what did the embrace really mean to both of them? After all these years, what did he feel about her? More importantly, how did she feel about him? She had rejected him, pushed him away and crushed his dreams all those years ago. She had led him down the path of blood that he was now on, and for some reason it distressed her how cold he had seemed while he had been unconscious, how dangerous he had felt when he had been awake. It worried her that he had well and truly barricaded his heart, like she had predicted, stopped himself from feeling anything, including anything, and perhaps especially anything to do with her. But at long last, she finally realised that for better or worse, she was attracted to him now, more than ever before. She wanted more than anything to walk into the hut, shake him awake and spill the contents of her heart to him, but she couldn't. Fear held her back. The fear of rejection, the fear of seeing herself as just another girl in his eyes that led to her asking Komachi to look after him while he was awake until she was ready to confront him again and hopefully by then, she would be ready for whatever he really felt for her, because deep inside, she felt that somehow, she deserved it for all that she had done to him in the past.

A chill ran down her spine as the wind brushed her auburn tresses out of her face and a single tear snuck down the side of her cheek to mingle with the running water of the river. She raised her head to the sky and prayed to her gods that everything would turn out alright.

* * *

Meanwhile, somewhere across their world, a figure saddled a turtle and spurred it on, making as much haste as she dared in the dark. She had just received disturbing news from the villagers of their neighbouring village, and she had to find out the truth. For only this one man, she would do anything, including travel the length of the world to visit the village that he had saved many years ago, in quest of the truth. Her resolution absolute, she disappeared into the night, white hair streaking behind her as she rode the turtle as fast as she dared to in the darkness.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

**I imagined this bit said by Komachi in Japanese, reminiscent of the way she continually teased Katsushiro in episode 10 during their trip to Kanna. Not too good with Jap spelling, but i will give it a go, it's pronounced something like, "Katsunoji wa Ne sama no koto sui teru desu" but perhaps shortened to just "Katsunoji wa Ne-sama ni sui teru!" (Sorry, bad with jap grammar too hehe)**

**Anyways, Katsushiro will be out of the hut soon! You'll see. I'm just having a trouble and writing myself into a big hole by making more and more people come visit him. Hehe, horrible planning on my part. It was supposed to be just a short story, but now there are just so many ideas that i've implanted into it (which reminds me, Nasami may take a few more chapters to appear, seeing as how she has to travel, and Katsushiro can't be asleep for days on end.), it turns out i might have to keep writing this for a long while yet. So please, stay tuned, and let me know what ya think! **

**Ps: Upon rereading, i think there are many parts of the chapter where my writing's been sub-par / Not too satisfied with it yet, but let me know what you think.**

**Once again, domo Arigatou gozaimas. Feel free to review if you believe i deserve one, whether positive or otherwise. **


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